


The Pretender

by Ein_The_Corgi



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Emotional Constipation, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), One Shot, Short & Sweet, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22595290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ein_The_Corgi/pseuds/Ein_The_Corgi
Summary: Nero tol Scaeva had always fancied himself a good pretender.
Relationships: Cid nan Garlond/Nero tol Scaeva, Nero tol Scaeva/Warrior of Light
Comments: 7
Kudos: 20





	The Pretender

**Author's Note:**

> Capah'to- Miqo'te. Average/slightly above-average height. Short, ginger fur. Fluffy tail. Ice-blue eyes, freckled face.

Ever since childhood, Nero Scaeva had always fancied himself a good pretender. He'd pretended not to be hungry at dinner when food was scarce and an ill sibling needed it more than he. Pretended not to be hurt when the older kids at the Academy made fun of his provincial accent. Pretended not to care that Cid still stuck up for him despite their fierce rivalry, or to be worried when he'd seen that selfsame Cid run after those rebels. He'd feigned confidence when the time came for him to test his newly-attained combat skills in battle for _real_ , apathy whenever one of the squadrons he'd commanded came back a few soldiers short, and cruel indifference whenever a particularly youthful-looking enemy fell by his gunblade. Hells, he'd certainly feigned that same indifference when he'd learned that Cid nan _Gods-damned_ Garlond -again, that selfsame Cid who'd been such a thorn in his side at the Academy- was still alive after defecting to Eorzea.

His pretending had seen him through many a tough situation- and he wasn't about to stop now, even though he knew in his heart that the sounds coming from the main room downstairs were _not_ those of a comrade's triumphant return. So, he pretended not to hear them as he sat at the simple wooden workbench in his quarters to continue his work on his latest project, his only light source being that of the quickly-fading afternoon sun in the window in front of him.

There was a faint knock at his door. He pretended not to hear it.

A few seconds passed, then another knock- louder this time.

"Nero, I know you're in there." came a familiar voice from outside- but decidedly not that of Cid. No... it was the voice of his comrade, the deserted Miqo'te conscript -and so-called Warrior of Light- Capah'to Zeisko.

" _Go_ _away_." growled Nero, as if delaying the news he was likely about to recieve would do anything to change it. "I'm _working_."

"Please let me in. It's important." was the reply. 

" _Oh no..._ " thought Nero. The former Medicus was not usually so... polite, especially when addressing someone like him. This did nothing to help the growing pit of dread in his stomach that he was desperately trying to pretend wasn't there. Figuring it was no use delaying the inevitable any longer, he sighed as he tried to brace himself for whatever tidings that insufferable Miqo'te bore. "Alright." he said as he got up to show his comrade in.

Nero opened the door to find the Miqo'te standing meekly outside. He was wearing the typical healer's garb, rather than the old Garlean uniform he typically wore, with his gloves and apron absolutely covered in blood. He opened his mouth to speak, but he needn't have bothered- one look at the somber expression on his freckled face was enough to tell Nero everything he _hadn't_ wanted to know.

"Cid's gone, isn't he...?" asked Nero, a decievingly-neutral expression on his face.

"Yes." said Capah'to, sheepishly. "I tried, but there was no helping him..."

"So the bastard finally got in over his head..." muttered Nero, a hint of irritation creeping through his facade. "I always knew he'd end up like his father..."

"I-I'm sorry..." continued Capah'to, empathetically. "I know you two were close-"

" _Close_!?" interrupted Nero, his face going red with anger. "We were _business partners_ at _most_ \- and _reluctant_ ones at _that_!" He paused to contain himself, then continued. "Just... leave me alone. _Please_." He said as he shut his door with a trembling hand.

Capah'to knew the Garlean was lying through his teeth- he'd seen it. The pair may have argued like an old married couple, but they'd always had each other's backs when things got dangerous- this had been the one time Nero couldn't be there to cover him. However, he knew better than to argue his point at a time like this. This time, it was _his_ turn to pretend. So, he sauntered down the hall and back downstairs, all the while pretending not to hear the strangled noises of a man trying desperately to keep himself from falling apart at the seams from behind the door that had just been open.

======================================

Nero sat at his desk again, alone. The sun had set long ago, and now his only source of light was a large candle he'd lit. He hadn't left his quarters since before the Warrior's arrival, despite having heard the cacophony of a great number of drunken engineers and Scions below- clearly, a wake had been organized. Thankfully, no-one had made any attempt to get him to join the festivities. Not that he would've _let_ them, anyways... But it was late now, and all of the mourners had either left or retired to their own quarters for the night. Still, a good night's sleep likely wouldn't come for any of them, and much less so for the only non-Chocobo member without any alcohol in his system.

Rather than try to distract himself by working on his latest pet project as he had been wont to do before, he had set his mind upon a new task. In front of him lay a framed print of a newspaper sketch that he'd kept with him in a box, along with a few other choice keepsakes from his childhood. Depicted in the drawing were two smiling, fair-haired Garlean youths in Academy uniforms standing side-by-side while hoisting a single airborne turret in between them. Both of them also wore gold medals. The caption below read "Congratulations to the two 1st Place winners, Cid Garlond and Nero Scaeva!". Unfortunately, however, it seemed that the glass covering the sketch had been defiled somewhat, as the shorter of the two boys had had two demon horns scrawled on him. Furthermore, there was a large crack running diagonally, right through the middle. All of this damage had been done years ago, by Nero himself in a jealous fit of rage. Of all the emotions the man could control, it seemed envy had been the hardest for him to master.

Nero picked up the damaged picture in order to assess the full extent of what he'd done, but instead found himself staring wistfully at it. As much as he'd loved to butt heads with that silver-haired bastard as a child, that day had been (and still was) one of the happiest days of his life. He remembered how proud both he and Cid had been of both themselves and each other as they stood on stage to accept their awards, and how excitedly they'd conversed over the intricacies of their respective projects at the celebratory luncheon afterwards. That afternoon, they'd taken their drone out to a campus field and had great fun playing a game of target practice, switching controllers every round. As much as he'd hated to admit it, there was no doubt that he'd made himself an unlikely friend that day, as he and Cid had begun to behave in a much friendlier manner towards each other from that point on. Their fierce rivalry certainly persisted, but it had become just as much for the betterment of the other's skills as it had been for their own egos. As annoyed as he was by Cid's seemingly-constant ability to stay one step ahead of him in fame, he always found he could still seek comfort -however little- in the fact that _he_ , at least, saw him as an equal.

... And as much as he liked to pretend it wasn't so, he _missed_ that insufferable bastard's company when he wasn't around. _Fuck_ , did he miss him right now... Remembering the good times they'd had together had brought back all of the emotions he'd _thought_ he'd had under control- and _then some_. The print he'd held clattered unceremoniously back onto the desk due to Nero's trembling grasp as his vision began to blur- and this time, the tears threatened to keep coming, no matter _how_ hard he tried to keep his composure. "Damn you, Cid, you white-haired bastard!" He growled, banging his fists on the desk so hard it made the objects on it jump. "Always have to be first, don't you? Always have to get the better of me... even in death!"

... Fuck it, this was too much. He wasn't going to bother trying to deny his grief anymore. He shoved his chair back as he stood up, almost knocking it over. His fists still clenched on the desk, he bent over to blow out the candle.

... And then, for the first time since he was a child, he crawled into his bed and openly wept.


End file.
